April

Towards the middle of the April the wind changes and the showers fall, We hide under the branches of an old fir tree sheltering from the rain, All is well as the rain sweeps across the shallow mead's rippling waters, There is a fluorescent greenness in the grass and buds begin to open. Walking through villages old parks over commons, heaths and meadows, Stretching legs running over commons after a long and very hard winter, Larks sing in the sweetest air as blackbirds swoop from grand oak trees, A child looks amazed at the change nature makes his eyes wide as saucers. Standing on common land flocks of goslings pale green like new catkins, Protected by squawking and chasing parents should anything come near, Gorse in full bloom in the leafless woods while primroses bask in the rain, Turf on these lands are thick with violets, cowslips grow in fine meadows. The ox lip, half primrose half cowslip begins to mature into a thick bloom, Looking across square fields enclosed by thousand year old hedgerows, Old orchards grass is littered with white violets side by side with daisy's, A Purple wood spurge hangs pale-green flowers among tufts of alyssum.